One More Quest
by Dalia-inuyasha
Summary: After battling Meredith Hawke boards a boat w/ friends & mages but Fenris isn't on board. She searches desperately for him, and finds old friends on the way, who are looking for the elf for their own reasons. HawkeXFenris
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters.

Alright a few notes to set up the story- Hawke's name is Delia. She is tan with long, white hair (same color as Fenris). She is a rogue who fell in love with Fenris and sided with the mages in Kirkwall. She told Isabella to return the relic to the Qunari, and lost her friendship as a result. She did not kill Anders. The story commences directly after the battle against Meredith.

Ch. 1-Seperation

Hawke gazed back at the burning chantry as she sailed away from Kirkwall-likely for good. The calm breeze spun her hair in tendrils around her face. Hopefully Charade would forgive her for leaving so promptly, and the cousins would be able to stay in touch. As the continent faded from view, Hawke sighed and turned back to her allies, who were each dealing with the departure differently.

Aveline was nowhere in sight. Likely she was below deck, sitting near Donnic. He had managed to escape, but only just. They had found him fighting unconsciousness near the docks, and, after being assisted to the ship, he had passed out. Anders had done what he could, but he would likely stay asleep for the next few hours. Hawke smiled, glad that Aveline had found another man to care for.

Bethany sat in a corner, staring blankly at Orsino's signet ring. Her sister could not get past the First Enchanter's betrayal. Merril stood by her side, trying to comfort her with a nonstop, nervous chattering that Bethany was obviously ignoring.

Anders sat sulking opposite Varric, who stared down the mage and occasionally tried to drag an answer from dead lips. "Why did you kill her, Blondie? You had to have known it would only make things worse," to which Anders would only reply with a shake of his drooping head.

And then, there was Fenris-wait, where was Fenris? He had urged them onward when templars had chased them to the docks, but surely he had boarded before the ship pulled away! With the amount of mages who had crammed onboard, Hawke had assumed Fenris was among them, and yet…Perhaps he was below deck. Delia strode purposefully toward the stairs, ignoring the glances from her companions. Fenris must be here. She could not go forward without him. He had trusted her, going against all of his instincts to fight for mages, so she could not have left him behind. As the stairs came to an end, Delia had a foreboding feeling that Fenris was not resting in one of the ship's cabins. She charged past Donnic's room, not even taking the time to nod in Aveline's direction. There was only one door closed, at the far end of the corridor. Hawke steeled herself, praying to the Maker she would not be disappointed. As she attempted to calmly open the door, she heard heavy breathing and a rustle of clothes. Peeking further in, she saw a highly disheveled mage and a blushing templar, hastily separating from each other. Hawke felt emotion escape her, as a blankness filled her bones-an emptiness she had not felt since her mother's murder.

"You needn't worry. There are no laws here prohibiting…this," the words came without any bidding, "I apologize for intruding."

"Thank you, Messere Hawke," the mage stammered, keeping her eyes down, "We shall attempt to be more…discreet."

Delia turned and headed straight for the helmsman. "We must change course. Someone has been left behind," she demanded.

The Orlesian looked quickly around, "Messere, I hope you do not mean back to Kirkwall? Surely you recognize the folly in that plan?"

"I do not care. We must turn back now. I will not leave my…comrade behind."

After a short moment, the man stood up straight, eying the mages who had turned and listened to the conversation. With a heavy accent, he replied, "That's not up to me, Champion. You are risking the lives of everyone aboard this vessel, and I propose you ask their permission."

With a quick glance, Hawke knew she could not win. Anger raged inside of her. If only she had not upset Isabella. The temptress would have turned around without even an explanation, and there would be no need for this defiant helmsman. "How dare you," the words dripped like acid from her lips, then, raising her voice, she said, "I save all of you. Support your cause, fight where you ran, and this is how you repay me?" Her comrades were standing, wondering at the cause of the commotion. Hawke looked at each mage, hoping to have earned their approval, but none would dare meet her eye. They all opposed her, worthless sods. "Fine. When you're all recaptured by another circle, don't expect me to come saving your good-for-nothing asses." It wasn't like her to lose her temper, but, Maker bless it, this was Fenris they were taking about! Why him? Hawke stalked down to an empty cabin, this time knocking first. She remembered him, fighting himself to remain at her side, as she chose to support the mages.

"It is a mistake, but I won't abandon you." He was so sincere, so how could _she_ have abandoned _him_? It was unforgivable, to say the least. As Hawke laid down on a rough, uncomfortable cot, she let a few silent tears trickle as she faced the wall. Luckily, there was no one to intrude on her misery. Bethany was busy moping, and she wasn't close enough to anyone else for them to come barging in.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two-Hope

Hawke spent the majority of the trip in that room. Most everyone had recognized her mood after they, too, realized the absence of the elf, but none knew what to say. Anders had tried to apologize for his actions, but Delia only waved him away. Varric and Merril tried to help with a few jokes, but Hawke's sense of humor was resting wherever Fenris was. Aveline, always direct, shared her methods of mourning, which was less than helpful since the only thing that kept Delia going was the hope that Fenris had found another escape, and not been killed that fateful night. In the end, only Bethany was able to keep her from slipping into madness. Her sister said nothing, but merely sat with her, both sitting apart, bearing their separate pains, the mutual grief bringing them only closer together.

The boat stopped along the coast every once in a while, restocking and dropping off mages as it continued its journey east. Once, when they docked in a small town on the coast of Fereldan, Delia climbed off of the ship, hoping to hear rumor of an elf with strange, glowing tattoos, only to be disappointed time and again. After failing, she would head to the local tavern to drown her sorrows. It was a fine line she walked, drinking enough to numb the pain, but staying sober enough to fend off any drunkards who thought her a helpless maiden. On one such night, the ale was a bit stronger than most. Whereas a couple of pints would normally be the perfect balance, Hawke was now unstable, and another sip might push her to the edge of weeping despair that overcame so many. She was determined not to go that far. However, she was still too drunk to be aware of a pair of hands sneaking stealthily up behind her. Trying to focus on staying balanced, she teetered a bit to the right. As she threatened to tip, the hands managed to right her-via her bum.

Hawke quickly stood and faced the pervert, unfortunately bringing on a wave of dizziness that momentarily blinded her. As her vision cleared, Delia spotted a familiar bandana weaving among the dancers on the floor. She shook her head. It couldn't be.

Then, after a moment of clearing her thoughts, Delia entered the fray of dancers to find the owner of the bandana. With a swift lunge, she managed to grab the woman's arm, and she pulled her out of the crowd. Within a second, Hawke was on the defense as a dagger was raised to her throat. "Shall we go somewhere more private?" Isabella purred into her ear.

Delia tensed, her head cleared by this change of events. With a quick duck, she spun around and had her captor in an arm lock, her blade at Isabella's back. "Indeed. We have much to talk about." After Isabella had run off with the relic which might have prevented war, Hawke's trust had all but vanished. Her guard was up as she silently followed the pirate to the back of the tavern.

The room was sparsely furnished, only a large bed and dresser adorning it. Isabella quickly made herself comfortable as she stretched along the mattress. "Join me?" she asked.

Delia rolled her eyes, leaning instead against the doorframe. The pirate was difficult to hate. "I'll pass. I see you haven't changed. Still living with the ale, are you?"

The temptress laughed, "Of course. Where else would one hear all of the juicy gossip? I need to know who's single and who's taken before I pounce…though it might be fun to lure a married man." Her smile was contagious, and Hawke's lips began to form a small grin. "Speaking of which, where is that lean hunk of a man I left you with? Surely you two haven't-"

"Stop," the Champion's eyes hardened. All traces of a smile vanished. After a tense silence, she continued, softly, "It's been years since I last saw you. We have much to talk about."

Isabella sat up, listening. Despite Hawke's vow not to trust her, the entire story came out-the mages and templars, Sebastian and Anders, and, finally, Fenris's disappearance. "I can only hope he made it out alive." Against her best efforts, Hawke's tears fell freely. With a deep breath she calmed herself. Now was no time for this. The boat would be leaving soon, and she needed to continue searching. "I'm sorry. I have to go. The ship-"

"Will not be going without you," Isabella finished. Delia glanced up. Isabella spoke quietly, deathly, "You will grab your belongings and we shall take my boat. Meet me here by dawn. Our search begins at that moment." She began striding out of the room.

"Wait, what?" Hawke followed, "Why do you care to help? Certainly it's not because of me. If that was the case, you wouldn't have run off with the relic!" As Isabella stiffened, she could tell she'd hit a nerve. "I don't care about it, not anymore. The war was inevitable, but you betrayed me, nevertheless."

Isabella snapped, "Now is not the time for this! Grab your belongings. Fenris has something of mine, and I intend to get it back! Be here at noon, or I leave alone." She stormed away.

Hawke stared after her. What could Fenris have that Isabella needed? And, if she thought it was with him, did he carry it on his person? She began wondering just how well the two knew each other…She strolled back into the main room of the tavern and saw Varric downing an ale, and setting it next to a growing group of glasses.

"Hawke! My dear friend!" she shouted across the room. She joined his group of admirers, who all stared up at her, amazed, "Tell them how you chopped off the high dragons head and made its skin into your armor!"

"Telling more stories, Varric? Perhaps you should hang up Bianca and become a bard."

He gave a hearty chuckle. "No, Hawke, you know me. Where would I get my stories if I hung around dumps like these all of the time?" As he laughed, the bartender glared in their direction.

"Come, Varric. I think we've overstayed our welcome."

"Ha-HA! Always one for being polite, eh, Champion? Well, good-bye, barkeep, and may we never meet again!" He followed Hawke into the chilly, midnight air. Varric filled the night with meaningless chatter, but about halfway to the boat, he said, "Hawke, you've been silent this whole walk. What happened in there?"

"I found Isabella," she replied simply. After a bit of prodding, she finally told him what had happened.

"Well, I suppose we'd better tell everyone," he spoke after a moment of silence. Hawke looked down at the dwarf in confusion, "What? I'm sure they would like to know to grab their things now, instead of scrambling after you last minute. You didn't think you would be going alone, did you?"

"Well, I thought…maybe Bethany…"

"Honestly, Hawke, you can be so oblivious. You can't honestly believe Anders would abandon you? After you spared his life, he's more dedicated to you than he was to even fighting templars!" She raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe not that far, but he's certainly following you. Anywhere else he's a wanted apostate. And then, Aveline. I've never known a woman with a greater sense of duty. She's follow you through the fade and back without a thought, dragging her husband along. Merril may not like you, but she does hold you in the highest regard. I doubt she'd be turn away from you in favor of being an outcast. And then there's…oh Andraste's ass who am I forgetting?"

Hawke smiled, "My trusty dwarf whose stories I would surely die without?"

"Ah, yes. Him. Yes, I suppose we will have to find that Sandal boy again, won't me?" Varric shot her a devious glance, and, for the first time since leaving Kirkwall, Delia found herself laughing.

After speaking with their friends on the ship, everyone was packed hours before dawn. The Orleasian helmsman was glad to see them off-him and Hawke had never found any common ground.

Everyone greeted Isabella kindly, though without affection, and complimented the quality of her ship. Isabella showed Hawke to the largest room on board, "For when we find your man," she'd said with a wink. By noon they were leagues away from the coast, and Delia felt anticipation swell in her breast. "Soon," she spoke to an endless sea, "Soon we will find you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3-A Gift

With the group back together, it took all of Delia's efforts to ignore Fenris's absence. She avoided Aveline and Donnic at all costs, their love gashing her wounds even deeper. At one point, the former captain confronted her.

"Hawke, is there something you need to say? You've avoided me the entire trip."

"Aveline, I just-I don't know. I'm sorry. You aren't the problem. I will work on it." Aveline had nodded and left, but Delia did not keep her word. After weeks of travel and stops, the two drifted apart. Though there was a mutual respect for each other, Avelline stayed only because of her sense of duty, not out of kinship. She had never grown attached to anyone in the group, excluding perhaps Fenris, but he wasn't there anymore. With the others, Hawke tried to at least remain on their good sides. She still disapproved of Anders, but he would not give up on earning her forgiveness, and she knew he would eventually worm his way back into her good graces. Meanwhile, he had constant heated debates with Merril about the cons of blood magic. Even though she had given it up after the keeper's death, Merril refused to admit that she was in the wrong. Delia almost felt sorry for the girl. Indeed, it was the keeper's own fault she died, and Merril had good intentions. Bethany's softer side had won out, and she and Merril had become close friends. Both were dealing with the loss of someone who had sacrificed themselves for a greater good, and they needed each other. Delia almost felt like a third wheel when speaking to them, but she knew she was in no shape to comfort her sister. She spent most of her time at the wheel with Varric and Isabella. The two shared outlandish stories and inappropriate jokes until nightfall, and often long after. Hawke found peace in their easygoing banter, even laughing at many of the better puns.

After many futile stops with no mention of a white haired elf with lyrium tattoos, the group landed on an island off the coast of the Tevinter Imperium, supposedly unaffiliated with the continent. As Hawke prepared to disembark, she noticed Isabella and Varric pausing.

"We're actually going to sit this one out, if you don't mind," the pirate took the time to tell her as Varric strode to the lower level.

"You're not coming?"

"Disappointed?" she teased.

Delia scoffed, "More surprised you would pass up an opportunity to meet a new lover."

"Oh, we're still getting off of the ship, but we are taking a break from the searching. Varric and I are going to investigate another rumor."

"Oh? And what rumor is this?"

Isabella looked around, then discreetly answered, "It's…a potion. It's said to help…liven things up, if you know what I mean," she walked away laughing as Hawke blushed and stepped onto the pier. Looking around, she realized she had no idea where to go. There were literally ten taverns in sight from this spot. Really, those two were the ones who knew where the juiciest gossip was. After a moment of staring helplessly after the jokesters, she felt someone come up behind her, slowly. She sighed and turned around.

"What is it Anders?" Delia was tired of his new, submissive attitude. In trying to atone for his mistake, he had really only made a nuisance of himself.

"I can help you. I recognize this island, and I know where to go to find information, though it might be costly."

"Fine. But I'm not going unless you stop being a whimpering mutt and be the Anders I was once friends with. I didn't spare you because I wanted a slave. I did it because you're a good man."

For the first time in a long while, Anders smiled. "You know, I always forget why I liked you. Then you go and do something unexpected, and I remember all over again."

Hawke only nodded, hoping she hadn't encouraged Anders's romantic side. He had hinted at love a few times in the past, but she always turned him down. Even after she and Fenris were together, he had tried to come between them. Surely he knew better by now.

The pair walked past all of the taverns Hawke had first seen. They passed by armorors and inns and travelling merchants. Anders stopped at one of their stalls. A man had a cat with a litter of barely-weened kittens on his vending table, and the mage was obviously admiring them. One, a pure white female except for black coated paws, started mewing its way towards where Anders was. He looked at it sadly, then began walking away. Hawke, though, strolled up to the merchant.

"How much for the white one?"

Two minutes and thirty silver later, Delia walked away with the kitten in her pouch, where she had promptly fallen asleep. She would surprise Anders with her later, if she didn't wake up too soon.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4-Knowledge

Anders began creeping around back alleys, winding through the confusing streets of the city. Hawke knew she would not be able to find her way back alone. As they worked their way deeper into the closed confines of the island, the buildings grew ever more dilapidated, eventually reaching a point equivalent to an elven alienage. However, Hawke saw no elves wandering around-in fact, nothing moved in these dead roads. Delia sensed a trap, worried that Anders didn't know what he was doing. He, on the other hand, marched quickly ahead.

A second later, Hawke saw the trip wire. She began to yell, but it was too late. A burst of flame erupted, singeing Anders' staff as he jumped out of the way. An avalanche of thieves and bandits emerged from the house behind him. She tried to get around the wall of fire, but it was impassable. He fired cold spells and lightening, but Hawke knew he couldn't last long. Anders was a healer, not a fighter. He was already taking a swig of his limited supply of health poultices. He began to stumble back from the onslaught, his robe inches away from the inferno.

As he staggered, Hawke realized Anders was going to fall. She gathered her courage and raced through the heat, ignoring the burning skin and smell of singed hair, holding her breath, drawing her daggers. She fought the weak men, slashing throats and breaking bones as they approached. A splatter of blood hit her eye, temporarily blinding her as she ducked to avoid a blade-swipe she couldn't see. When her vision cleared, she promptly stabbed through the attacker's armor.

She crouched prepared for another to come charging, but they were back away slowly, obviously second guessing their plan. She jumped directly into the group's center, taking an archer by the throat. The group exploded outwards, and the man she held breathed heavily, obviously fearful for his life. She shoved him violently away, "Get out of my sight…all of you!"

They scattered. Hawke smiled wearily, glad they had called her bluff. The fire had heated her up inside of her armor, and she sweated profusely, growing more lightheaded with each second. Her daggers clattered to the ground, and Anders looked worriedly at her. As he took a step forward, she fell to her knees. It was only then that he noticed the wide gash on the back of her right arm. The blood poured out, yet, even as he stepped forward to help, she smiled and waved him away. He had seen this façade before, her pretending to be fine without realizing she was in grave danger, after the battle with the high dragon. After fighting Orsino and Meredith. She had to be the strong one, but her stupidity was going to get her killed. And so, as she finally collapsed, he was there to catch her head, preventing her from getting hurt even worse.

After he picked her up, he heard a small mewing coming from her pouch. He opened it up and saw a beautiful white kitten, the one he had been looking at earlier. She was scared and hot; some of the gore from the battle had gotten in the pouch and stained her snowy fur. When he reached his hand in to pull her out, she crouched away, afraid. For the moment, he left her be. Hawke needed to be taken care of. With a grunt, he picked up the unconscious woman, heading back to a tavern he spotted a while back, hoping he could still heal despite his own weakness.

Hawke woke up in a large bed feeling refreshed. Her room spun around her, and she closed her eyes for a moment. When the room remained still, she looked down and realized her armor was missing. She was dressed in her robe, a bandage around her right bicep. When she touched it tenderly, a wave of pain passed through her, knocking her out again.

The next time she opened her eyes, Anders was standing over her arm, carefully removing the wrapping. She flinched when his hands passed over the wound, but his hands were gentle, and his magic was abolishing the pain.

"Thank you for saving me…again," he said quietly, gratitude weighing heavily in his voice.

"I couldn't very well have stood there and let you die," Hawke wasn't sure if that was because she cared for him, or because she needed him to find Fenris, but she didn't care to find out.

"So, will I walk again?" she asked jokingly. Her mood darkened as his face fell. "Anders? What is it? Anders!"

He looked up, guilt apparent on his face, "Well, yes. You'll walk. You'll talk even!" He poorly attempted a joke.

"Anders." She was deadly serious. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Well, you were gravely injured by the time I brought you to the tavern, and-"

"So, Kitten, are you going to stay awake long enough to hear _all_ of my good news this time?" Isabella chattered merrily.

"All of it? I haven't heard any of it!" Hawke smiled at her friend's mistake.

"What do you mean? I've been in here off and on since you arrived, and you faint every time I show up. Anders said this time…Anders, have you told her?" Isabella accused.

He stared at the wooden boards below him, "I was just about to. Hawke, your arm will heal fine, but you received a wound on the back of your skull. I'm not sure yet how severe the damage is, but, at present, you faint uncontrollably, and have a minor case of memory loss…he looked up at her, searching her face for forgiveness. Instead, he found astonishment and horror.

"Wha-Anders! Anders, fix it! You're a healer! I don't understand…Memory loss?"

"Dear, it means you forget things. I feel like we've said this before, haven't we, Anders?" Isabella cut in, trying to lighten the mood.

"Stop!" Anders shone with the light and power of Vengeance. "This is no time for jokes!"

"Anders go!" Hawke interrupted. She couldn't stand when Justice took over-he was too unpredictable. She glared the mage down as he walked out, his eyes dimming back to their normal color. However, he was far from calm, as she could tell by the way he stormed through the doorway.

Hawke took a deep breath, trying to reign in her own emotions. "How long have I been…incapacitated?" she questioned Isabella with her eyes closed, dreading what she might hear.

"Well, including the night Anders brought you back, three days. While you were stocking up on beauty sleep, though, he went back to that hole to find his informant. Oh, and he took that blasted cat with him, too. Leandra or whatever her name is. Damn thing never leaves his side."

Delia felt a wave of guilt wash coldly over her; she shouldn't have been so hard on the man. All he ever did was help, even if his methods were…questionable, to say the least. With a deep breath, Hawke asked what he had learned.

Isabella, for once, took on a serious tone, "Well, supposedly, there's rumor of a white-haired elf with some strange tattoos wandering the Fereldan, following the Dalish clans." Hawke lit up, preparing to stand before she was gently pushed down. "But…Kitten, I don't think know if this information can be trusted. I've sailed around a bit, and there are not many honest people out there."

At that moment, Hawke could sit still no longer. She stood, ignoring the dizziness that passed through her head. "Well, thank you, but I'm not losing this chance. I've searched far too long already, and anyone who lies is handing their life to me."

Isabella had never seen Hawke so determined-or so angry. She sighed, "Fine, dear. Everyone is ready to go when you are." She watched Delia walk out of the tavern, still appreciating the woman's sensuous curves. "That Fenris is one lucky bastard."

Note: Sorry about all of the Anders stuff, but it had to be done to set something up later. But don't worry-we will see Fenris soon! Also, I'm really trying to capture everyone's personalities, so if someone is being misrepresented, let me know! Alright, thanks for those following this story and adding me to their favorite authors list. I hope to earn that acknowledgement!


End file.
